Tomorrow
by tehPrincess
Summary: KotOR 2: LSF Exile and Atton drama, angst, smut, and fluff, oneshot. Atton and the Exile get one really good night together before things go terribly wrong. Rated M for blood, sexual content, and character death.


_Disclaimer: All characters, etc. from the game Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords belong to Obsidian Ent. and LucasArts._

A/N: Again with the warnings - this story will feature blood, sexual content, and character death. And as always, this isn't Canon. Any problem with that, then go read something else.

* * *

She was so sweet and kind and compassionate. When was the last time _anyone _had been kind to him? And she was soft, but stubborn, opinionated and fair.

It had been unsettling at first. The way she insisted upon stopping to help every pathetic soul they came across during their journey. But that was just her nature. And now Atton thought he'd die without her.

He'd laid it all on the line, told her everything about his sordid past. And when it was all out in the open, while she'd been listening to him with such rapt attention, he'd told her the rest. Told her how he never stopped thinking of her, how he'd developed all these new feelings, beyond friendship. His admiration was not just for her as a leader, but as a woman. All the things that used to matter so much to him seemed kind of trivial now. The gambling, women, and booze. Everything paled in significance to her.

She'd been very quiet for a long, long time, and Atton was afraid. She was disgusted by him. She didn't love him, how could she? But then she'd given him a soft little smile, a smile of hope, forgiveness, and understanding, and she'd wrapped her tiny hand around his.

His heart had nearly burst.

Things were different now. They spent all their time together. They worked on the mission, and she constantly brought him along with her. They didn't get a lot of down time, or time to be alone, but any waking moment they had, they spent being near each other, laughing, talking, holding hands. Or just quietly enjoying each others company. Every now and again, she'd come and sit on his lap while he piloted the ship. Some nights she'd fall asleep there, and he'd marvel at how good it felt to hold her so close.

Then one night, when the ship was quiet, everyone asleep in their bunks, Atton stirred, awakening to the realization that he'd dozed off in the cockpit with her in his lap. He inhaled, breathing in the scent of her hair. He pulled off his gloves, letting them fall to the floor, then ran his bare hands up the sides of her thighs, letting them come to rest on her lower belly.

The moment was sweet, but uncomfortable, it wasn't a good idea to have such close contact with her so soon after waking. He tortured himself for a moment, pressing his hips up against her soft ass, enjoying her closeness. Then he sighed, cupping the side of her face and turning it sideways. He softly brushed her lips with his. "Wake up, Sweets," he whispered softly.

She smiled, her eyes still closed, then kissed him back, her hands coming up to cover his. He chuckled a bit in his chest, giving her a tight squeeze. But instead of sitting up, she peeked up at him through her lashes, then kissed him again, making a soft sound as his grip on her tightened. She turned into him more and the kisses grew deeper. He sucked at her tongue, exploring the soft recesses of her mouth. She rolled fully onto her belly against him, and he crushed her to him, feeling her knees slide to the outsides of his legs.

He couldn't get enough of her, and she seemed so needy, pushing against him, making soft breathy noises.

They needed more room.

Atton broke the kiss, and hoping she wouldn't suddenly come to her senses, he whispered agianst her ear, "Come with me."

He stood up, holding her close as he moved, and headed for the medbay. Blondie usually spent his time in here, but presently he was off in one of the dorms, asleep, just like everybody else.

He shut the door behind them and moved her up against the room's exam table. He leaned into her, resting his forehead against hers, and took some deep breaths, trying to regain some control. He didn't want things to happen too fast.

He gave her a quick, hard kiss, then leaned back. "Take off your robe." It would be better, and easier for her, if he told her what to do. That way she could just follow orders, let someone else take charge for once.

He watched hungrily as, with trembling fingers, she started to pull the folds of her Jedi robe apart. He got to work on his own clothing as he watched her undress, shrugging off his jacket and the layers of shirts until he stood before her in only his pants and boots. He could feel her eyes eating him up as she pulled the robe off her shoulders, leaving her in only a thin camisole.

"That, too," he directed, his voice even lower and thicker than before.

She pulled it off over her head, her bare breasts jiggling slightly from the motion. She didn't have an overly-voluptuous figure. She was athletic; her limbs long and lean, but her breasts were firm and rounded. He leaned down, pushing her onto her back on the table. He reached up to cup her - not caressing as much as feeling her, his gaze devouring her half-naked form.

His hands were big and calloused and her skin felt soft and smooth against them. She had tiny rosy nipples that pushed against his fingers as he slid them over her.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as he slid his hands down from her breasts to her belly.

His fingers hooked around the waistband of her leggings, and he heard her take a gasping breath.

He stopped, looking into her eyes, so dark and deep. Innocent-looking. "You alright?"

She took a few slow deep breaths and nodded at him. Seeing her acceptence, he returned to her leggings, and she lifted her hips so he could pull them off along with her underwear.

He stared down at her, bare before him, listening to her breath come in pants, then reached down and stroked her with his thumb.

She made a little mew in response and he kept rubbing her, devouring her body with his gaze. "Rub your breasts," he said, sustaining the massage with his thumb.

She obeyed his direction, flushing a bit. She twirled her nipples between her fingers and thumbs, her belly twitching in response.

He forced his breathing to slow, taking deep inhilations and long exhalations. His heart pounded brutally in his chest, and he readjusted his hand, sliding a finger inside her to make sure she was ready.

She gasped and arched up slightly, her mouth falling open on a taken breath.

He grunted and pulled his hand from between her legs. Something hot had flared up in her eyes, and seeing it, he began to fumble at the fastenings of his pants.

He saw her belly clench, her eyes wide upon his body, and he couldn't wait any longer.

He freed himself, and got in position, lining up his body between her legs.

He paused, and looked into her eyes, then pushed himself inside her.

His eyes fell shut. He was big, and she was tight. He felt her stretch, and she whimpered, her hands clutching at the table beneath her head. He reared up on straightened arms, holding his chest off hers.

His breath hitched in his throat, "Okay?"

She took two long deep breaths, "Yeah." He felt her inner muscles begin to relax against him, so he eased his hips back and then forward again in a small, experimental thrust. He moved pretty easily inside her, and since she had room, she squeezed a hand between them and began rubbing his chest and belly muscles.

He began to move harder, deeper. He was panting above her now and sweating, and he could hear the sweet sound of her breaths every time he pitched his hips forward. She pumped her hips a little, matching the rhythm of his steady thrusts.

She gasped and arched up, and he stopped, still buried inside her.

She was panting too now, and her lips parted as she stared up at him, "Wha-" she began. His face twisted, and he thrust again, then fell out of rhythm completely. His grunts turned rough and primal as his hips jerked and pistoned against her.

She parted her thighs even farther as he drove into her in hard, choppy strokes. His motion was urgent, clumsy and animalistic, his features contorted with pleasure and effort.

He felt her break apart beneath him, and came hard, letting out an agonized groan. He pushed into her a few more times, draining himself inside her body, then lowered himself over her, bending his arms for more support.

They were both gasping desperately as his body began to relax, the clenched muscles loosening, softening in satisfaction.

Her breath was cool and damp against the skin of his throat as she whispered to him, "I love you."

He pulled her close, and rolled with her, settling them together on the table.

He wanted to say it back. Wanted to tell her how much hearing it from her meant to him. He'd never loved anyone before, but as he lived and breathed, he knew he loved her with every ounce of himself.

He'd tell her. Tomorrow, when their thoughts were unclouded by physical love.

He'd tell her.

He held her against him as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

A noise woke him up. Quiet at first. Then more persistent. He stretched, realizing he felt wet and sticky. He smiled a bit, thinking it was probably because he hadn't bothered to clean up after they'd made love last night.

He was cold. She wasn't with him anymore. And then he felt the wetness on his chest, too, and the smell hit him.

Blood.

Nothing smelled quite like it. It brought back old memories, made him feel sick. He sat up, blinking against the brightness in the room. The wetness was blood. It covered him. His hands, and most of his naked body.

And then the sounds that had awakened him became clear. Mical sat on the floor, sobbing. He held her in his arms, rocking back and forth. She was still naked, but lifeless now, her beautiful eyes staring without seeing. She had blood on her, a lot of it, and a small puncture wound on her soft thigh.

The surgical scalpel, laying in a pool of blood on the floor told the tale.

"I... I had to. She was bad. She was falling, and I had to stop her," Mical babbled, cradling her to his chest.

He must have come upon them this morning, found them here naked, asleep, together. And he'd used his medical knowledge, along with the scalpel, to sever one of the main arteries in her leg. She would have had just enough time to jump up from the table, and maybe take a step before she'd bled out.

Atton leaned over the side of the table and was violently sick.

**~end~**


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